Page 49 of The Heart That Breaks
I try to be calm while she clicks keys on the keyboard, and I do my best not to barge through the double doors marked Emergency Room.
Finally, finally, she looks up and says, “I’m sorry, young man. She is here, but are you a relative?”
The question catches me off guard. “No. I’m. . .a friend. Please. Can you just tell me how she is?”
She stares at me for a long second, clearly wrestling between the desire to go by the rules and the realization that I am obviously in need of her pity.
“Let me check with one of the nurses,” she says, conceding with a shake of her head as she picks up the phone.
It takes her a full minute to convince whoever is on the other end, but she hangs up with a convicted nod and says, “Right through there. The nurse will meet you on the other side.”
“Thank you so much,” I say, hoping I sound as grateful as I feel.
I punch the red button to the right of the double doors, charging through, only to come to an abrupt stop at the wall of a woman on the other side. Her arms are folded across her chest, and she has the kind of look on her face that lets you know she doesn’t suffer fools. Or whatever that saying is.
“I’m looking for Ann-Elizabeth Casteel,” I say, holding my stance, even though her stony glare is enough to make me back up.
“I understand you sweet-talked Helen out there. You’re cute enough, so I can see why she fell for it, but I don’t break rules back here. You’ve got five minutes, son.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” I say, following her to a curtained off area. She hesitates, glancing over her shoulder. “Girlfriend?”
“Ah, I can hope?”
The nurse laughs, seeing me, I think, for the first time. “There you go. She’d be lucky to have you, I suspect.”
She yanks the curtain open, and there’s Ann-Elizabeth looking so different from a few hours ago that I have to draw in a deep breath and press my lips together because I swear, all of a sudden, I want to cry. I don’t even remember the last time I cried about anything.
Her face is pale, and I can see her lower lip trembling from where I’m standing. “What happened?” I ask, my voice so low I can barely hear the question.
She doesn’t answer, just shakes her head as if she doesn’t trust herself to speak.
I cross the floor and sit on the side of the bed, picking her left hand up and lacing our fingers together. “Tell me.”
“I was stupid. It just seemed so unfair that Henry could come in your house and be welcome, but not in mine. I was just going to bring him in for a little while.”
“Is Henry okay?”I ask, suddenly fearing something awful has happened to him.
She nods. “He’s in the car. Mama went to check on him.”
“What did Lance do to you, Ann-Elizabeth?” My voice is stone-hard, and I’m not entirely sure I want to know the answer. I’m not sure I trust myself with the information.
She studies the corner of the room, refusing to look at me when she says, “It doesn’t matter now. I’m fine.”
“It matters to me.”
She looks up then, meets my narrowed gaze with a grateful, “I know. But the police are going to question him.”
“They better arrest him,” I say, fury boiling up under the words.
“Guys like Lance tend to get away with stuff.”
“But you’ll tell them what he did.”
“Yeah.”
“Where did he kick you?”
She places her hand on her left hip. I don’t know what possesses me to do it, but I reach out and lift the edge of the hospital gown just enough that I can see the blackish-blue bruise marring her skin.
